


Porcelain Walls

by LittleHoneyPott



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleHoneyPott/pseuds/LittleHoneyPott
Summary: A demonic colorful being, named Candy Pop, was stressed due to his repetitive routine.However, he was lucky that his tiredness was responsible for his encounter with someone who could distract him by their mysterious appearance and unstable temper, the toymaker.
Relationships: Candy Pop (Creepypasta)/Jason Meyer | Jason the Toymaker
Comments: 11
Kudos: 29





	Porcelain Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mention of murder, violence, and parent abuse.

As the night falls, the lights which came from the windows were turned off one by one. It was the time when adults were back from their jobs, most of the young went to sleep, and the kids wrapped themselves in their covers shrinking in fear, afraid of the monsters under their bed or in their closet. Every child was terrified of the boogeyman, even if they were not so sure what or who exactly it was, they knew that it was bad, and wanted to damage them. The dark, mysterious monster who hunts those who simply want to have a good night of sleep, no matter which country you live in, there is always a myth of a scary creature that torment children during rest time.

Candy Pop, however, was a vibrant, appealing being, whose appearance would seem innocent at first sight. His clothes were as colorful as the fireworks of fourth of July, while his pink-colored eyes along with his ocean blue hair, lured the ones who were easily interested in his unique looks, although their fate was mostly being murdered by the deceitful, and colorful Jester.

You could say that his personality matches his dressing style, but it depends on his current mood that can vary in a brief time, going from gentle and kind to a furious train wreck in a matter of seconds. But, he was quite playful, and little did he care what people said or thought about him. What only could make Candy Pop truly delighted, was doing what he had always done: Sail his journey without a destination, making as much chaos and destruction as he can along his path. He was the real boogeyman, the one who would not let the poor children rest. It was told in his myth, but that not only did he terrified people before they slept, also inside their dreams, too. For him, it was much more fun, of course, since he was able to force them to live their worst nightmares, continuously, until they felt so weak and helpless that Candy Pop could consume their souls with ease. The soul of humans was his favorite dish, even though it wasn't necessary to torment them before consumption, the Jester desired to do so only for the satisfaction he got from it. He enjoyed watching the discomfort and fear in people's eyes due to his doing. Seeing them beg for mercy, as it only made their death slower and more painful, made him feel alive.

Candy Pop had to collect human's essence to survive, it was not superfluous, it was a need. He would teleport himself into people's dreams and scare them to death, therefore consuming their souls. However, being forced to do so for his health annoyed him deeply. Torturing them before getting the essence of their lives was enjoyable but it took him time and effort to create an efficient nightmare where the person would prefer taking their own lives rather than living that moment forever. He had to think, plan, and search for horror elements for every single one of his victims, just to make it as personal as he wanted it to be. Obviously, besides the fun he had to execute his planned nightmares, it was tiring. Nevertheless, feeling mentally exhausted as he was, he still needed his energy from souls to maintain his powers.

The jester's exhaustion made him distracted, as he teleported to the wrong reality that he was looking for. Unfortunately, lacking his usual strength, his mood was unstable, which was a mortal trap for anyone who dared to challenge his patience.

Adjusting his vision, as he analyzed his surroundings, he finds himself in some kind of workshop, full of all sorts of toys. His eyes dashed around curiously at the place, noticing the unusual combination of handcrafts. Ragdolls, stuffed toys, porcelain dolls, puppets, along with different versions of music boxes were seen on wooden shelves fixed on the walls. There were hundreds of human-sized dolls spread across the room, some of them with cloth covering their faces, others without legs, eyes, arms, or even with their mouths or eyes stitched up shut. Each of them seemed to have a unique characteristic that distinguishes them from the others, too specific for it to be unintentional.

The place seemed perfect for kids due to the number of toys, but to his surprise, he saw no children, only a tall man looking at him with a serious expression. But as soon as they made eye contact, he seemed to get angrier than before, his long ginger locks hiding half of his irritated look.

"This place is so weird," — Candy Pop said as he scanned the place further, pretending that he was alone in that room. Every eye that there was in that workshop, except for Candy Pop's and the ginger's, appeared artificial, yet they had a certain life in them as if those penetrating eyes were not made of glass. There was something off about them.

The taller male, who glared at the jester, looked slightly offended, but he insisted on keeping his stoic impression not wanting to make him so easily readable, even though a stranger simply appeared out of thin air in his workshop and dared insult the place he so dearly called home. The first thought that crossed his mind was to rip that playful smile away from his face, not letting the vibrant stranger say something so disrespectful ever again.

"Who are you, and what on earth are you doing you here?" — The serious male retorted, still looking at Candy Pop with his piercing amber eyes.

By the strong grasp he had on a small piece of fabric plus his assertive posture, it was clear that he was impatient and demanded explanations from the Jester, which was fair in the position he was in.

His dominant attitude immediately interested the jester as he returned to observe the ginger male, and suddenly, he stopped smiling. That was rare to happen, it was not always that something, or someone, could make the colorful man lose his cheerful and but insane persona. No matter how harsh or uncomfortable the situation was, Candy Pop would always wear that annoying, jokingly grin that could drive others mad.

He stared intensity at the other's eyes, noticing how they were sweet colored like honey yet looked so fierce. Although their color seemed to get brighter, emotionless and more intimidating at every second that passed, as he still didn't answer his question. Nevertheless, the blue-haired could not care less about the danger since the simple thought of him having the chance of having someone trying to end his life made him jump on his tiptoes and beam in excitement. Candy Pop was still amazed by his appearance, his hair was long, dark crimson as blood, as well as an unusual black design under his left eye that emphasized his bottom eyelashes, which only made him even more intrigued. The red-haired man appeared charming but dominant, territorial and deadly dangerous.

"Oh, you said something?" — Candy Pop asked as he blinked, visibly distracted by his attractive looks.

Not pleased, the taller male shoved the fabric piece he was holding aggressively across the worktable in front of him, making the jester jump in his spot due to the sudden action, and the ginger breath through his nose impatiently.

"I asked you a question," — he said _calmly_ , but with a slightly irritated tone, — "Who. The fuck. Are you? And what are you doing here?"

The short moment of silence after his ask was interrupted by himself, who at the moment preferred a short quick answer rather than a long thoughtful one. At that instant, some explanation had to be made or else there would be some serious consequences.

"Answer me. _Now_." He demanded, glaring intensively at Candy Pop.

"How am I supposed to respond if you won't even let me speak?" — asked Candy Pop in a fake innocent tone. — "Didn't your parents teach you that it is very rude to interrupt others?"

As the ginger's nails scratched the wooden table's surface from anger, piercing the old material, the color of his eyes faded to a lifeless bright green. The jester has touched a nerve for sure, mentioning his parents was not a welcome idea. However, taking a quiet sigh, he was able to hold himself not to scream at the vibrant one.

"Spit it out," — the serious male said.

"Candy Pop is the name," — he finally responded, bowing dramatically. — "Nothing like me, I know." — he said sarcastically, gesturing toward his colorful clothes.

"...Right," — the taller male furrowed his eyebrows as he stared suspiciously at the jester. Not exactly the answer he wanted which made him deeply frustrated. An unknown has just invaded his home and knowing their name was not enough for him. 'Why was he there?' 'What were his intentions?' 'Where did he come from?' Hundreds of unanswered questions crossed his mind in a short time which he could not manage himself, and that only made him angrier. Disorganization and chaos were his worst enemies, he disliked anything he could not control. Things needed to be in his way, or his way.

"And who do I own the pleasure to meet?" — The jester asked.

"Jason," — he answered in a nonchalant tone.

"You're a seller, Jason?" — Candy Pop inquired him as he examined the place once anew, still amazed by the uniqueness of each toy.

"I'm a toymaker, actually," — corrected Jason, — "Why do you care?"

" _I don't,_ " — he sassed, grinning mischievously from ear to ear.

The ginger only replied to him with a huff.

"Now," — began the toymaker, — "Would you mind leaving my workshop, that you so _kindly_ invaded?"

"Excuse me?" — The jester snickered. — "Am I bothering you?"

"No, not at _all_!" — he said sarcastically. Jason's patience was at its last, there was so little that stopped him from damaging the provocative, vibrant being who appeared mysteriously at his office. His rage attacks occurred quite frequently, although he despised losing his mind and easily snap, it could not be helped. Many of his deliriums ended in the flesh of his once friends, being replaced by a filler material, and his entire workplace was replete by proof and memories from these times.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I stayed just a little while, would you?" — Candy Pop objected, smiling wider.

"Why do you seem so interested in here?" — The ginger male questioned.

"Because of you!" — the blue-haired beamed.

"Me?" — he rose an eyebrow in distrust, and in a matter of seconds, Jason's frustrations seemed to have hopped out of the window. Praising and compliments were his main, if not only, weakness. He would never truly admit it because whenever someone showed admiration towards him, he pretended to act confident and triumphant. 'I know, I know' he would say to them, but it never meant that he did not love hearing the kind words. Even though the toymaker never really thought little of himself, being worshipped by someone else made him bloom with satisfaction, warming the nonexistent heart beating inside of him like he was alive, not just an emotionless doll from his workshop.

"What do you mean?" — Jason asked suspiciously.

"You're different," — stated Candy Pop, — "from the humans I've seen, at least-"

"Different _how_?" — He interrupted Candy Pop once again, crossing his arms, deeply interested by the jester's answer.

"So you've made all of these?" — A slight flush on his face was unnoticed by the ginger, whilst the jester simply ignored him as he bounced toward the wooden shelves full of porcelain dolls and stuffed toys.

"Yes," — the toymaker replied, clearly puzzled and distressed by not having his answer, however, he did not persist. He knew that he was going to stress over nothing, it was no use to demand anything from him.

"They're quite... _exotic_ ," — Candy Pop admitted, — "You crafted them all by yourself?"

"Every piece, and every stitch," — the ginger boasted with a rare, small smile across his face, proud of his art.

Ever since Jason was a child, he had a noticeable interest in toys not only due to his age but because he saw life in them. The beauty of creating and expressing his world and imagination into objects, it amazed him. He became a toymaker so he could be able to live and work inside his creative mind, getting away from his painful reality. 'You need to study more, to get an actual job' his parents would say as they saw their child's perfect school report. 'Stop playing with these stupid toys!' Jason's father scowled, snatching the wooden mannequin from his hand and carelessly throwing it into the trash can. Truth is, his family never supported him, all they cared about was having a successful ideal son, with an impeccable life. For them, that was the only way that Jason could be truly happy: realizing his parents' dreams which they could not complete themselves. But, Jason refused to follow his parents' wishes. He opened his shop where he could sell all of his incredible hand-made toys. Not so surprisingly, due to his extraordinary talent, his market got quite popular among all age groups around his town. Nonetheless, his mother and father were not satisfied, considering that he got expelled from his own home and made clear that they never wanted to see his face in their house ever again.

Candy Pop pranced around the workshop curiously analyzing the various toys that decorated the place, ignoring the unsettling feeling of being watched by the eyes made of glass. He did not interact with any of the toys as he did not see the need for doing so, yet the ginger watched carefully his every move as if Candy Pop would ruin his handcraft by any silly touch. The jester stopped by a unique, human-sized doll that appealed to him. She had dreamy, sky-colored eyes along with her short, chocolate brown, wavy hair, and stunning, short, emerald, flowered dress, surely made her stand out from the other dolls.

"Did you base this one out of a real girl?" — he asked, admiring every single detail closely, brushing his fingers softly through the brunette doll's hair.

"Not really," — the toymaker said airly, not paying much attention to Candy Pop's moves whilst his thoughts were traveling somewhere else as he spoke, — "Why do you ask?"

"She seems much more detailed," — Candy Pop stated thoughtfully, as he glanced at him, — "You put more effort into her."

Jason avoided the jester's gaze, — "Maybe so."

An uncomfortable, inevitable silence soared through the atmosphere, except for the blue-haired, who was enjoying every second of the taller male's awkwardness. But the quietness was cut short by Candy Pop's curiosity.

"What inspired you to make this doll, then?" — a familiar provocative grin spread on his face.

The toymaker thought for a moment before answering:

"An ideal best friend," — he said, — "Someone patient, kind, and loyal."

"I see," — Candy Pop nodded, — "Did you give her a name?"

"Amelie," — Jason replied quickly, without thinking twice. He immediately regretted answering so incautiously, as he turned away from the jester, clutching at the small piece of fabric in front of him that was before tossed angerly aside, — "Her name is Amelie."

"Oh, Amelie," — he echoed, giggling softly, interested by Jason's sudden excitement on the subject, — "People with this name usually have a deep inner desire for love and companionship, and want to work with others to achieve peace and harmony."

A distinct 'rip' sound was heard, and with two separated pieces of fabric made from the same material, the toymaker furrowed his eyebrows, glaring furiously at his own hands, as his voice came out as serene as untouched water, — "And you know this because...?"

"I'm very good with names," — he stated, — "Knowing their meaning can be quite useful, they can tell a lot about people–"

"Not always," — the taller male interrupted, — "I know from... _experience_ " — he mumbled the last part.

Jason glanced at Candy Pop from the corner of his eyes, "But do you know the meaning of my name?" he questioned.

"Jason, the one who heals," — Candy Pop recited, as he got closer to him, with an irritating, teasingly, and cheerful voice, — "Does it sound, perhaps, suitable to you?"

The ginger smiled proudly, ignoring the other's provocation, — "It does, indeed," — he said, — "I'm the one who fixes whatever needs to be corrected."

"Do you know how to fix hammers?" — the blue-haired questioned softly, as he rested his hand on the worktable, next to the toymaker, to support his tired body.

"Depends on who's asking," — fumed Jason, disliking the jester's sudden approach, and glancing at the jester's hand.

Candy Pop only giggled playfully, enjoying the ginger's stubbornness, — "Well, you see, I have a large hammer that I use very often, and it gets worn out quite easily," — he claimed, — "If you'd fix it, I'd appreciate that."

"And what do I get out of this?" — the serious male scoffed.

"The ideal best friend," — he replied, referring to the ginger's previous statement, grinning mischievously.

"Who? You?!" — Jason exploded in disbelief and doubt.

"What? No! Where did you get that from?" — Candy Pop spluttered, giggling hysterically, — "I can find the perfect friend you're looking for, as many as you want, all I need to do is break in their dreams, manipulate them into meeting you, and you deal with the rest!" — he beamed, — "I do this sort of stuff all the time, it should be fairly easy."

Jason scratched his chin thoughtfully, considering the offer, and then, making his final decision, he suddenly leaned forward, grabbing Candy Pop by his collar, who grasped the taller's hands as a reflex, yet not struggling against it, their faces only inches apart. The entire workshop lost its vivid magic as the room darkened, dolls stared deeply into the jester's soul, while the stuffed toys were frayed, lazily stitched, and as soiled and old as the wooden racks. Its glass eyes were morbid alike the toymaker's, and equally disturbing as his temper. Jason's gaze was locked on the blue-haired male, who discreetly smiled in awe at the ginger's demeanor.

"Here is my proposition..." — he began, keeping his voice low and calm, — "You do your... 'thing', and after that, when they finally come to me..." — there was a brief pause, — "I'll fix whatever you need." — Jason got even closer, his nose almost touching Candy Pop's, — "Then, never show your face here again."

Even though Candy Pop was an immortal being, during his thousands of years of life, he has never met someone so brave, mad, and strong as Jason. He certainly was different from other humans. Not only because his appearance changed drastically depending on his mood as he did, but because it impressed him that the toymaker was able to confront him with such courage and strength. Every time Jason showed any sign of anger, it filled Candy Pop with a peculiar feeling that he did not recognize. A warm sensation that made it seem like his heart would jump out of his chest, plus the fluttering butterflies in his stomach, which weirdly enough, did not make him sick. He did not understand those feelings, however, it did not mean that he ignored them. Regardless of his little knowledge on the subject, he looked forward to figuring himself out by spending time with the ginger for as much time as he could.

Lost in the ginger's assertive eyes, along with his crimson locks that softly fell on his dominant expression, Candy Pop spent a fraction of time to recover his senses from what just happened, blinking softly as he bit his lower lip, glancing at the toymaker's lips with dreamy eyes.

"Deal." — he said simply, returning with his common playful grin shortly after, besides being uncomfortably close to someone he just met, — "See you around, Jason."

At that instant, after a snap of Candy Pop's fingers, Jason opened his eyes, and as he adjusted his vision, he was not in the same situation as recently. Whilst he slowly got up from his messy, red velvet couch, his blanket falling on the floor soon after, he rubbed his eyes lazily, like he just had woken up from a deep slumber. Aside from him, there was no one else in the workshop, except for his varied toys, porcelain dolls, and decorations. 'That was different.' Jason thought to himself.

The lonely toymaker would often dream about the most surrealist scenarios: Buttleflies as big as buildings flying over town, seeing his dear workshop melting like fresh paint on a canvas during a boiling hot day, talking animals offering him candy and tea, selling humans in his old toyshop but every customer was a living puppet, or his dolls coming back to life searching for revenge against him. Nevertheless, he had never dreamed or seen that irritating, but unique jester, which confused him for not knowing why such a vibrant, unknown being appeared in his dreams. Shrugging his worries off like he mostly does, Jason rested his head on his palms, mentally listing the tasks he had for the day, observing the details of the old wooden floor under him.

"Who was that guy?" — asked a gentle, female voice, her question echoing inside the small room.

"Go away!" — the impatient male grunted in response, not lifting his head from his hands.

The girl ignored his command utterly and kept talking.

"He seems nice," — she continued, her words making Jason tremble violently, — "And funny–"

"I've already told you to go away, Amelie!" — Screamed Jason in fury whilst he got up from his couch and glared at the source of the voice, digging his sharp nails into his palms, breaking the flesh slightly. The toymaker's hair was white as snow, and his angry orbs a bright, vivid emerald green, unlike his natural amber ones. He searched for the girl, analyzing every edge of his humble office, only to find no one. The porcelain and ragdolls appeared to be exactly where they were supposed to be, so was the stuffed toys, along with the puppets, and the other toys and decorations. After the second he noticed his sudden explosive behavior, he took a sharp breath as he paced toward his favorite chair, counted to ten mentally, and popped himself on to the few pillows on his navy blue sofa, that was carefully placed in the corner of the workshop. Still trying to calm his nerves, breathing heavily, the pale locks of his hair slowly faded to his usual ginger color, yet his eyes still gleamed like green fire.

"It's all in my head," — he whispered to no one in particular, looking at his own feet, — "She's not here, it's all in my head," — he repeated.

"But I'm still here, aren't I, Jason?" — said Amelie, smiling sarcastically at him, but her smile disappeared just as soon as it came.

A young woman, whose wavy hair seemed as soft and sweet as chocolate clouds, stood out her bright, sky blue eyes, and perfectly framed her delicate pale skin. She was wearing a simple, short green dress that ended before her unkles. And there she stood, right in front of Jason's sofa, her hands behind her back, whilst she had a permanent scowl on her face.

Once, a long time ago, Amelie used to be Jason's best, and only, friend. She was the kindest, most patient, and the most devoted person he has ever met in his entire life. They stuck together like gum since elementary school, every memory they built side by side was unforgettable for both, including their last one. When, due to a serious disagreement they had, Amelie and Jason decided to never speak to each other again.

During a stressful day working in his toyshop, Jason let his emotions get the better of him, and his last customer was the victim of his first rage attack. Blood splattered on the floor of his workshop with a quick swing of the handsaw that was strongly held in the toymaker's hand. The moment he noticed the atrocity he had just done, he panicked, his body trembled as goosebumps covered his arms, eyes wide and pressing his lips forming a straight line. But he could not simply stay there observing his mistake, he had to fix it somehow, therefore, he separated the customer's limbs from their body like an old ragdoll and hid the pieces of flesh inside one of his toys. An exaggeratedly long, purple snake with colorful eyes was chosen to be the toymaker's corpse bag. Ironically, Amelie entered the shop just after the incident, she wished to make up with Jason due to a previous fight they had, but she had really bad luck that day. He tried to explain to her what happened, desperately asking for her help, and Amelie told him that he should go to the police to confess what he did because it was the right thing to do, he murdered someone, after all. Jason, enraged for not being supported by his only, dearest friend, spent no time to stop her from going to the cops, using his bloody handsaw. In the end, after a tense battle, Amelie was able to crave a screwdriver right into the toymaker's heart, however, for her disappointment, even though he stumbled back in pain, he did not die. Something happened. Something that not even Jason himself understood, it was a shock to him just as much as it was for Amelie. One of the walls from the toyshop started to inflate, it crumbled as a blue door popped out. He spared Amelie's life and entered the mysterious door, never being seen anew, by her at least. Still, he searched everywhere for the perfect friend to replace Amelie, someone who would stay by his side no matter the situation. Yet every single time, he failed. Not pleased since he did not find the one he was looking for, he "fixed" them by turning their bodies into human-sized dolls which he could shape to his version of better. If he thought that they talked too much, he'd stitch their mouths shut. What if they tried to run away from him? Legs removed and may be replaced by decorations such as a mermaid tail, or wood animalistic limbs. Did they see something that they were not supposed to? Make them never see again. Just put glass instead, it will look better anyway.

Ever since that day, his mental state became weaker day by day of his life, and at some point he began to see hallucinations of his old friend, talking to him, walking around his office, or breaking his toys to get his attention. But, it was not real, it never has been, even if deep down he wished it was. The Amelie who appeared in his office now and then was only a manifestation of his last bit of sanity that disagreed with his unconsequential and violent decisions. Jason did not realize that, but he sincerely needed to have someone by his side that questioned his actions, accompanied him in that lonely workshop, and forced him to get out of his comfort zone.

It was not the first time that she was there, Jason was already used to her inconvenient apparitions. Nevertheless, the girl's presence still annoyed him to the core, he hated remembering the real Amelie by the single look of that dreamy, perfect, fake blue eyes. 

The toymaker glared at the brunette as he lifted his gaze at her, leaning his elbow on the armchair and resting his head on his hand.

"What do you want?" — he asked uninterested, with a clear hint of irritancy in his voice, — "Are you here to lecture me, _again_? Or maybe ruin my day like you usually do?"

"Jeez, must you be dramatic all the time?" — mocked Amelie.

She crossed her arms, softly holding on the side of her shoulders as she ambles through the office unlike it was the first time, turning her head at any eye-catching toy, her brown locks bouncing gracefully. Jason's eyes followed her moves steadily, but his thoughts did not. 

The brunette furrowed her eyebrows whilst her attention was towards the worktable in the center of the room, — "Why is this torn? Do you even know what scissors are? You should use it instead of screwing your material up, you don't have much of it too," — she scolded, pitifully grabbing two pieces of fabric that were whole once. 

He narrowed his eyes as he tried to identify what Amelie was holding, then waved his free hand lazily.

"I don't remember how this happened," — Jason murmured.

"You _know_ that I can tell when you're lying, right? Can't fool me again–" 

"Yes, I can't, because you are _not_ here."

"That still doesn't mean that you can just keep lying to people–"

"Take care of your own life! Oh, wait–"

"FINE! I got it already," — retorted Amelie, spinning on her heel as she turned her back to the toymaker. 

Exploring the workshop anew, unintentionally, she catches herself interested in the human-sized doll which Jason specifically crafted to resemble his old friend. She breathes through her nose grumpily.

"I'm not the only one who notices when you're lying," — huffed the brunette, tugging at her own dress' skirt, — "That weird guy knew that you weren't telling the truth about not referencing that doll from an actual girl."

Jason snickered lowly as if he was a god and Amelie merely a slug.

"As I care for what he knows," he said sarcastically, "For someone who was created from my mind, you know nothing about me at all."

"But what if he exposes you to the _police_?" — Amelie wondered with a purposeful overly-dramatic tone, taunting the toymaker.

"Did you take a look at him?" 

"Yea, and?"

"Do you really think he's the type who goes to the police? Someone, who follows the laws and makes sure that others attend them?"

'He has a point,' she pondered in silence as Jason grinned triumphantly, knowing that he was right.

Amelie crossed her arms anew, glaring at the ground. But her frown quickly disappeared, a confused expression taking its place. Her mind randomly aimed at the mysterious jester's reactions to Jason's anger. She remembered how he strangely enjoyed watching the ginger's irritation, pushing him only further to madness without caring about the consequences. 'Sounds like Jason,' the last part made her reflect on their similarities. It made her astonished as Candy Pop was not scared by Jason's true, furious form, on the contrary, he appeared to be _aroused_.

Jason positioned one leg over another, whilst he sank in the sofa's pillows carelessly, his attention focused on the ceiling. 

"The mood gets so much better when you don't speak, please keep it that way," — he gibed.

Not listening to the toymaker, lost in her world, Amelie suddenly spoke:

"I think that colorful guy from before has a thing for you."

In a matter of seconds, Jason jumped from his chair wide-eyed, — "What the fuck?"

"He was looking at you in a very... _suspicious_ way..." — she hinted, raising an eyebrow as she glanced at him from behind her shoulder, — "You seriously haven't noticed?"

"What are you talking about? Did you lose your damn mind?!" — hissed the ginger.

"C'mon! The hundreds of times when you had to snap him out of his daydreaming while he eyed you! You really think that his hammer, or whatever, is conveniently broken?" — insisted Amelie.

"He did _not_ say that his hammer was broken, he said that it broke easily since he uses it often–"

"Think whatever suits you better, but it won't change the fact that he probably likes you."

"Amelie, he's a guy! A MAN!" — he shouted incredulously.

"So?"

"I _don't_ like men, and even _if_ he was interested in me, it would never happen." — Jason claimed, certain of himself.

Considering the environment that he grew up in, it was understandable that Jason rejected this subject without thinking twice. His father was not only too demanding of him, but he was also rudely, and extremely closed-minded. The toymaker got used to hearing his dad's discriminative opinions in his daily life, and due to his lack of courage at the time, he was never able to confront him. After all, he knew that if he disobeyed or angered his father in any way, he'd probably get beaten, humiliated, or in a more drastic situation, spelled from his home. Therefore, he avoids reflecting on sexuality at all costs. Unfortunately, these fears unconsciously stuck with him, shaping the core of his personality.

The brunette opened her mouth to protest, but was instantly interrupted by the toymaker:

"Well yes, he did say that I'm _different_ , he's not wrong, I _am_ unique, and I know it, plus he only persisted to stay here because of me," — rambled the ginger aimlessly, gesturing with his hands exaggeratedly, — "But that doesn't mean a thing–"

Amelie faced the wall in front of her as Jason babbled since his main priority at the moment was convincing himself rather than her. Hiding the unavoidable joy that rose in her face, she pressed her lips so hard to avoid her laughter, that they turned white. She put both her hands on her disbelieved expression at the following next hours that the ginger endlessly discussed the blue-haired male.

Who knew that the invisible walls, which the toymaker built inside his head, were actually made of such a fragile, ironical and familiar material such as porcelain, yet he has difficulty breaking them.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my work!
> 
> Have a wonderful day :)


End file.
